Every Victory has it’s story.

I became a mom for the first time December 25, 1992. After twelve hours of labor with no pain medication, my 6.2oz baby boy was born into this world. The victory was so sweet, that I gave it another try again three years later. Yes, we tried because we wanted a girl, but that’s besides the point. 

When the time came for my second son to be born, I felt sorta ready. In my mind I had planned on no more than twelve hours of labor. I said to myself “it will be painful but worthed”. Silly I know, but cut me some slack, I was only 23 and believed that there were no other experiences to base my life besides mine. So I entered the delivery room feeling completely confident. I had been down this battle before. I got this. 

Well, the first thing that happened was I was sent away to go for a walk. My contractions had started but my water had not broken (by water I mean my amniotic fluid). With my first baby, my water broke but I had no contractions. The doctor's direction was to walk for an hour or two and return to the hospital. My husband and I went to a park in beautiful San Diego. 

When I had my first baby, the hospital I stayed at was very picky about how long I could walk. So this time, I had learned from others' experience that walking helps speed the process of birth up. Since with my first baby my walking was restricted once I got to the hospital, this time, I would make sure I walk plenty before I go back. So, instead of walking for 2 hours, we walked for almost 4. 

When I arrived, the staff were worried (their faces made it obvious), they thought something had happened. They said very assertively, “You took so long to get back, we were concerned”.  I replied, “Nope everything is fine, I was just walking”. 

They put me in a room and the doctor did his check up. He said, “your water broke, I can feel the head and there is a lot of hair. Do you know when that happened? You also begin dialating, we are going to have you admitted you right away” I said no, I don’t know when my water broke, I did have to pee a lot while we were walking. With my first baby, all the water came out at once in a big gush. I assumed that would happen again, but it did not. This time, all the times I stopped to pee while walking, my water was breaking. 

I will spare you the labor details, but by the twelfth hour, the baby was still in me and didn’t seem to be coming out any time soon. 

Eventually, though most of my confidence came from the fact that I was in a lot of pain, I explained to the doctor, stating, “Doctor, with my first baby the doctor had me push him when I had only dilated to eight centimetres. He was stuck at eight for a while, so he just had me push him out. He even used a spoon thing to get him out, and that’s why he was born with a cone head. It's most likely that I will not be a woman that is able to get all the way to ten centimetres before giving birth.” Doctors usually want you to be dilated at ten centimetres before they give you the okay to push. The doctor looked at me and said, “I understand. Nevertheless, I will not have you push until you have dilated to ten. If there is no movement after several hours, you will need a c-section.” At that point, I realized I was not the one calling the shots and started to cry. My prior victory experience of delivering a healthy baby boy was not a certificate to guarantee I would get to do it my way the second time around. 

Over twenty hours later, the baby was still enjoying the comfort of the inside of my stomach. I was offered an epidural earlier which I refused, but ended up taking because of the stress my body was under and the stress it was putting on the baby. With my first baby I went twelve hours with no pain meds. Yep, I think you have reached the same conclusion I have. I can be stubborn and prideful at times. 

For the sake of calming my body down, I took the epidural. That helped me be pain free, but the baby wasn’t moving down the birth canal. I completely gave up. I wasn’t much of a woman of prayer at that time, but I wished really hard to not have a c-section. 

My husband was in the military and we had no family around. I could not see how I will care for a toddler and a newborn after having a c-section. I heard that after a c-section, you need to be in bed for days. I remembered crying to my mom on the phone who said, “Olivia tenemos que tener fe (Olivia we must have faith).” My mom always says that in difficult moments. 

A little before I called my mom, the doctor checked me and said that I was at almost nine centimetres. Since it had taken long enough he was going to give me a c-section. I surrendered, and he explained how my baby heartbeat had stopped for a moment and he would need to get him out. 

While he was going to prepare for the surgery, a nurse came and whispered in my ear, “I am also a doula, I help deliver babies in homes. Try to push very slowly when a contraction comes. Since you won’t feel it I will tell you when; now… now… now…” She stopped as she saw the doctor coming. 

Everything happened so quickly. The doctor checked me again and said, “You have dilated to ten centimetres, quickly the baby is coming.”  All I remember was him saying, “Push now, harder… harder…” and then I heard that little voice cry. I cried so much as I held my baby boy in my arms. It was another victory, and yesterday that baby boy turned 26 years old. 

Every victory has a story. I learned that I can’t focus on how a victory came about in the past, or how it came about for someone else. I can only focus on the process today and take it one step at a time. Is okay to be informed, but I must stay flexible. It is okay to have experience but I must stay flexible, otherwise I will make the process more difficult than it needs to be.